What I Never Knew
by sonnyisforlovers
Summary: Draco comes to a strange realization about a certain Gryfindor with a saving people complex after his near death experience.


A/N: Obviously I don't own Harry Potter. A few lines are taken directly from the books. Please review!

A bead of sweat traveled down his lean muscular back. Despite the building's icy temperature he could not help the perspiration that slowly made its way down his thin frame.

Air so cold that it might have come from somewhere in the Arctic, hit him as a dementor slithered past. He trembled slightly in fear. The nasty pungent scent of decay and rot flowed from the creature, only increasing the closer it got.

Nausea coiled in his stomach. Another drop of sweat made its way down his spine.

He knew, with the same certainty that he knew his own name, that the monster was going to kill him. That was its job; its only purpose on this earth: to suck the soul out of criminals.

Brief flashes of his life started passing before his eyes.

"_Draco don't touch tha-", a panic stricken Narcissa yelled as Draco's tiny fingers wrapped around the tail of a large black snake. Tiny Draco pouted at the look on his mother's face and rebelliously pulled the tail. The snake raised its great black head and glared at the small child. Narcissa sat, frozen, too far away to assist Draco. He had just enough time to realize he'd done something foolish before large fangs entered his shoulder and searing pain shot through him. _

_Nine year old Draco flew high above the ground on his new state of the art broom. Lucius talked to a random business partner in the garden below. Draco wanted his father's attention so very badly, for him to look proud of his son just once. He angled his broom towards the ground and shouted, "Father look!" He attempted to stand and pushed the broom as fast as it would go. His left foot slipped off the handle and he hurdled down, landing with a dull thud. _

"_Shouldn't you see if your son is alright?" the unfamiliar voice of the business partner asked worriedly. _

_Draco turned his head to see his father as he laid in the dirt, feeling broken everywhere. Lucius' icy blue eyes flashed coldly before he turned and began walking back to the manor. _

"_When he is acting foolish, he is no son of mine."_

_On the train nearly seven years ago when he'd walked in on Potter talking to that filthy Weasley, he'd felt incredibly angry and jealous. He'd heard them talking when he walked down the corridor and had just planned on having a quick look at __**The Harry Potter**__. The instant his eyes fell on the ginger twit in the corner of the compartment he'd known exactly who he was and he'd disliked him. _

_Then he noticed the black haired boy that he had tried to talk to at Madame Malkin's. He remembered the way the boy had barely acknowledged his presence, the way he had barely responded to anything Draco said. As if talking to Draco was beneath him. Draco had been hurt that day. He was a lonely child with no real friends and he had only been trying to be friendly. But the messy haired, gangly, boy had basically given him the cold shoulder. _

_And yet here he was now, laughing and having a riot with a Weasley. The boy that had supposedly defeated the Dark Lord would rather hangout with a low life like that than Draco? It was outrageous to think that scum like that was more acceptable than he was. Rage had flooded his veins and he insulted the red haired boy and his traitorous family. _

_Then he made one last effort to correct the situation. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He hoped that nobody could hear the wish in his voice. He stuck out his hand, hoping with all his might that Potter would accept his offer of friendship. _

"_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he had replied. Draco reacted the only way he knew how, with threats, and then he had left. _

_Back in his own compartment he could not avoid the barrage of memories of his father calling him a fool, worthless, and good for nothing. He couldn't help thinking that his father was right. _

_In third year that horrible hippogriff attacked him. _

_Potter had walked up to the creature and made it look so easy. Draco felt a deep burning inside to prove himself, to prove he was just as good as Potter. The only reason the prat beat him at Quidditch was sheer luck, but everyone still thought Harry Bloody Potter was the most amazing person to ever live. Well Draco would show them. _

"_This is very easy. I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. . . I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?" He'd said loud enough for everyone to hear him, making sure everybody would know that he was just as skilled as that loser. And then the monster had attacked him. _

_He'd cried that he was dying and had allowed himself to be taken to Madame Pomfrey. _

_For weeks afterwards he couldn't shake the embarrassment and shame that he felt. Especially whenever Potter looked at him like he was worse than pond scum._

_Later that year he had stood by the castle doors with Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful if not intelligent companions. They had been waiting for Pansy to come out so they could all go feed the giant squid, when he heard Hagrid talking about Buckbeak. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him expectantly as the giant oaf sniveled about his pet. _

"_Look at him blubber!" He had shouted mockingly to impress his friends. "Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"_

_As soon as the words left his mouth he saw a brief flash of brown and then felt the harsh sting of a hand across his face. He staggered back and looked at his assailant. _

_The nasty Mudblood was being held back by her equally nasty blood traitor friend. Potter was watching him, contempt blazing like fire in his eyes. _

_Draco felt so, so… he didn't even know what he felt for sure except that he wished he could vanish and never have to see that again._

_Sixth year brought a new kind of hell to his life. His father was in Azkaban for Merlin only knew how long. His mother avoided him, even went so far as blatantly ignoring him. Voldemort had forced him to become a Death Eater. The Dark Mark became a hideous blemish on his once flawless skin. A constant reminder that he wasn't good enough, was not strong enough, just wasn't enough. . . _

_He'd been given the impossible tasks of getting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and murdering Dumbledore. He knew that everyone expected him to fail. He knew that it was punishment for his father's own failure. He was not stupid but he had no other option. So he spent his days, his nights, and his every free moment trying to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. It became his main focus, his obsession. _

_He tried to curse Dumbledore with the necklace. He had not put any effort into it for he truly did not wish to kill his headmaster. Dumbledore might play favorites and Draco might not trust the man or like him at all but he was not a murderer. He'd known the necklace would never work, Dumbledore had immense power and would be able to overcome the curse, but he still had to try. _

_When he found out that Katie Bell had been hurt with the curse he hated himself more than ever. He had never meant to do that to her; she wasn't nearly as powerful as Dumbledore and she could have died. _

_He stopped eating, he barely slept. He began skipping classes. He spent every waking moment working on the cabinet and plotting how to complete his tasks. _

_He tried to poison the headmaster. He had brewed the potion himself, which had taken days, and then had carefully concealed it in the wine. He had never intended to hurt the Weasel. He didn't like the red head at all but, when he found out that Ron had almost died he couldn't take anymore. _

_He left the Great Hall quickly and ran for the only safe place he knew: the prefect's bathroom. _

_He caught the reflection of himself in the mirror and was disgusted. He hated everything about himself. The way he looked. The way he was never fast enough, strong enough, or smart enough. He hated that his father was gone and that his mother wouldn't even look at him. He hated the Dark Lord and he just, just hated himself. _

_He slammed his fist into the mirror in frustration. Tears ran down his face and blood ran over his knuckles. He looked up and saw something move behind him in the broken shards of the mirror. _

_He was just so tired, so hurt, so broken. . . _

_He turned around and sent a spell blindly. It would hurt whoever was watching him, nothing more. It supposedly felt like a dozen bee stings at once but the pain would be gone within twenty minutes. He just wanted to be left alone. _

_But then whoever was there started flinging curses at him. He avoided them the best he could. Moaning Myrtle appeared and began shouting for them to stop. But he needed to release the pain that he felt inside, the frustrations, and anguish that he could not escape. _

_A curse bounced off the wall behind his ear and broke the cistern near Moaning Myrtle, sending water everywhere. Then Potter slipped into view and something inside Draco broke. _

"_Cruci-", was all he could yell before Potter drowned him out with "SECTUMSEMPRA!" _

_Pain coursed through his body as he fell to the ground. Blood, so bright and distinct in the gray bathroom, gushed from his chest so fast that he could not even see the wound. His wand slipped from his hand and the last thing he heard before the blackness consumed him was Potter whispering to himself. _

The dementor had come so close that he felt himself choke on the stench as his whole body trembled with cold. The images began to flow faster.

_The cabinet had finally been fixed and he made his way to the Astronomy Tower. _

_Dread controlled him as he faced the headmaster. Dumbledore offered safety and he so badly wanted to accept but he knew it would never work. Nothing ever worked for him. _

_He raised his wand but he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill. _

_Snape shouted out the killing curse and Dumbledore fell from the tower. _

_The Dark Lord repeatedly performed the Cruciatus curse on him; each time he would continue until Draco's throat bled from his screams and he fell unconscious. _

_The Death Eaters would pass him and his mother around. They each took their turn to torture the once prestigious Malfoys. He was forced to watch as they hurt his mother, and he could not keep the tears from his eyes. He could not save her and it killed him._

_His was in the Room of Requirement with Crabbe and Goyle. The Golden Trio was there, searching for something. Crabbe wouldn't listen and cast the fiendfyre spell in an attempt to kill them. But Crabbe didn't know how to control it and the whole room became an inferno. _

_Heat like nothing he'd ever felt before enclosed him, making it too hot for him to even think straight. _

_Crabbe's screams echoed throughout the room as the flames consumed him. _

_Goyle cried out in terror somewhere near him but he could not see through the thick black smoke. His lungs began to feel heavy. He couldn't move. He was terrified and alone. _

_A hand clamped over his arm and then everything went black. _

_He was standing in the middle of the grounds at Hogwarts. Bodies surrounded him everywhere. Faces of classmates gazed up at him, glassy eyed and with parted lips. His shoes sloshed through the blood soaked grass. Shouted curses pierced the air. _

_Death Eaters passed him by, looking for better victims than him. He let out a furious growl and started attacking them with the worst curses he could imagine. He managed to kill four of them before he came face to face with his father. _

_They stared at each other for only a moment before Lucius raised his wand and sent off a hex towards his son. Draco looked at him blankly, not registering what he knew he just saw. The hex barely missed him. _

_Numbly he raised his wand and sent off a curse at his father, and watched as he fell. _

The dementor was just starting to lean towards him; its hooded face only inches away. He felt weak and broken and petrified. He couldn't look away from the black mass that was about to kill him.

He felt its breath, surprisingly warm considering the creature sent off ice cold air, brush across his face. His heart beat frantically and he screwed his eyes shut tight, willing it to end quickly.

He felt its mouth touch his, just barely and knew that it was the end.

Suddenly it was gone. He couldn't feel the creature's mouth against his. He didn't feel the eerie sadness enveloping him. He felt nothing at all. He was dead.

"Malfoy are you alright? Can you hear me?" someone near him asked desperately. He knew that voice. It was so familiar but he couldn't place it. . .

Warm fingers lifted at his eyelids. He breathed in, realizing that he must in fact not be dead. The distinct sent of grass and summer air assaulted his nose.

Potter.

He jolted away from the person holding him, in shock and blinked rapidly, not believing his eyes.

"Are you okay?" the jade eyed, unruly obsidian haired hero asked again.

"I don't understand. . . ", Draco mumbled to himself still not comprehending.

Potter looked at him for a moment, as if he was trying to see something inside him, and then pulled a bar of chocolate out of his back pocket.

"Here, this should help you feel better. I'm sorry I got here so late. I could have saved you a lot of trouble." He smiled sheepishly while handing the candy to Draco.

"Why would you want to help me? Why would you save me?" Draco asked incredulously.

His savior gazed directly into his eyes while he answered. "I heard what you did. You killed your father during the battle. I'm sorry you had to do that but I'm glad you realized it was necessary. You provided invaluable help to our side during the battle. If you had let him and the others live so many more of us would have died that night." Draco felt disconcerted by the other boy's penetrating gaze and had to look away.

"I found out why you did what you did. If he was threatening my family, I probably would have done the same thing."

Draco couldn't help but laugh at this.

"What's so funny?" Potter asked, now a little irritated that he was being laughed at.

Draco sighed, so exhausted by everything, and just let out everything that he had been holding locked deep inside for years.

"No Potter, you wouldn't have. You would have found another way. You would have protected them and never have done such horrible things. You wouldn't have let yourself be bullied into such a situation. Because you're the great Harry Sodding Potter. You always win, you're always the best. Everyone loves you and it's just not fair. Why are you so great? Why do you always make me ashamed to be myself? Why is it that the only thing that keeps me sane is trying to make you notice me? Why the hell are you so damn special?"

Draco blushed darkly when he realized what he had said. That was completely ridiculous. He didn't care if Potter noticed him. He didn't care what Potter thought at all.

Except the longer he thought about it the more he realized that he did.

All that time he was never trying to prove himself to other people; he had been trying to prove himself to Potter. But why . . .?

Brief flashes of memories flitted before his eyes.

_Potter's laugh as he sat talking to Weasley and Granger, the type of laugh that made Draco smile in response without even meaning to. _

_The fiercely determined look in Potter's eyes before a Quidditch match. _

_The way his emerald eyes would sparkle when he was angry (most often at Draco), or happy (most often with his friends). _

_The scent of grass and sunshine. _

_Potter refusing to give in when Draco bullied him. Potter constantly defending himself and everyone around him. _

_Potter. _

A gentle hand lifted his chin and his storm cloud gray eyes met glittering green ones. A small smile tugged at Potter's lips.

"You think I'm great? Because I was under the impression that you thought I was a prat."

Draco's heart was beating erratically but he felt a smile appearing on his face.

"You are a prat, Potter, make no mistake. But I sort of like that about you."

The other boy smiled crookedly back at him, making Draco's heart stop momentarily before restarting in overdrive. Potter leaned forward slowly, giving Draco plenty of time to pull away and put a stop to it, before their lips gently touched.

Potter moved a bit and then rested his forehead against Draco's. "I sort of like that about you too," he whispered quietly.


End file.
